Читать книгу A Great Kisser - Donna Kauffman - Страница 8

Lauren Matthews was going to die. Her life was going to end in this tiny little gum-wrapper-size plane, which, given the way it was bouncing around in the air like a Ping Pong ball, was surely going to drop from the sky any second now and burst into flames as it crashed into the side of the nearest mountain peak. Of which there were thousands, so the chance of missing one and miraculously surviving was slim to none.

“Sorry for the turbulence,” the senior pilot called back. “Storm coming, but we’ll beat it in. Not to worry.”

She knew how he’d gotten every one of his gray hairs, too. And did he announce his reassuring tidbits over the intercom? No. He just called out the information over his shoulder. Because she was less than ten feet away. And she was at the back of the plane. In fact, she was the only passenger filling one of the ten available seats. “Not much call for trips past the front range during this time of year,” he’d told her when she’d boarded the tiny piece of tin back in Denver. After she’d disembarked off of the very nice, very large, very steady jumbo jet that, once she’d finally made it out to Dulles and found a place to park and made it all the way in to the terminal, then out to the other terminal, had delivered her quite smoothly all the way, nonstop from Washington to Colorado. A pleasant flight. She’d actually gotten some reading in. Now, with less than thirty minutes left in her daylong journey, she was going to die. Figured.

Sure, the pilot had gone on to say that he made the trip west several times a day during peak season. Which translated to ski season, since, other than mining or ranching, that was all they did in the middle of Colorado as far as she could tell. And she assumed the miners and ranchers didn’t need to fly anywhere all that often. But with the plane bouncing around like some massive cosmic cat was using it as its personal play toy, batting it this way and that, she wasn’t all that reassured by his past success rate.

“How mu-much longer?” she asked, her teeth clacking together as the plane dropped into another air pocket. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the engines. Had she mentioned the engines? The incredibly loud engines?

“We’re descending now.”

“Just what I was afraid of,” she muttered, but looked out the window anyway. Might as well see where she was going to spend her eternal rest. But there was cloud cover now. Thick, dark, gray-black clouds. Swirling all around them. That couldn’t be good.

“Ho-how do you know where to la-land?” she called out, fingers digging even more deeply into the already deep indentations on the armrests as they bounce-bounce-bounced along. “How can y-you see?”

“Radar. Don’t worry,” he said, tossing a quick smile over his shoulder. “I’ve landed in worse. Much worse.” He seemed almost happy about the challenge.

Great, she had the crazy pilot with a death wish. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what “much worse” could consist of, given that, at the moment, her teeth felt like they were cracking from constant impact. A mouth piece would have come in handy, but who knew flying had become a full contact sport?

Just then the plane dropped, then dipped to one side then the other, causing her to rap her head against the window. She added helmet to her new list of must-have carry-on items. “How much longer?”

But the pilot didn’t respond. He was too busy flipping switches and talking on his headset to someone on the ground, trying to land the plane. Which should have instilled all kinds of confidence but fell way short.

She was debating on whether to keep her eyes open or shut, when the pilot called back, “Hang on, we’re coming in.”

“Hang on? To what?”

That question was answered a moment later when the wheels touched down, then bounced up, then touched down, then bounced again, jerking her body around like a rag doll strapped to a roller coaster. She grabbed the seat back in front of her with one hand, braced her feet against the bottom of it, gripped the armrest with her other hand, and held on for dear life. Which, in this instance, was not simply a cliché. The plane bounced and jerked for a few hundred more years, then finally stayed on the ground and eventually rolled to a stop.

She wanted to first kiss the pilot, then the ground, but couldn’t seem to pry her cold, stiff fingers from the seat and armrest to do anything but stare dazedly and give a silent and quite fervent prayer of thanks.

“Sorry for the rough commute. It’s that time of year.” He slid a compact umbrella out of a side pocket and handed it back to her. “Here, you’ll want this. It’s a bit fierce out there.”

Now that the droning engine noise had subsided, and her ears had stopped ringing, she identified the new noise she was hearing. It sounded like thunder, but was just the heavy drumming of rain on the body of the airplane. “What are you going to use?”

“I’m fine. Hope you enjoy your stay in Colorado.” The pilot grinned and sketched a quick salute as she took the umbrella and gathered her things.

“They’ll have your bag in the terminal shortly,” he said, shifting to stand long enough to open the mechanism that opened the door, which lowered into its own staircase.

“Okay,” she said, rising on shaky legs. “Thanks.”

He lifted a hand in a quick wave, then seated himself once again in the cockpit and turned back to his wide panel of instruments. A few seconds later, he was back on the radio checking flight plans, it sounded like. Just another day at the office for him.

Lauren hefted her laptop bag and purse strap over her shoulder, then positioned herself so she could open the umbrella outside the door. The wind almost yanked it from her hands, but she grabbed tightly at the last second, barely keeping herself from making a Mary Poppins exit, smack onto the tarmac. Carefully, she exited down the stairs and headed toward the small building that, she assumed, was the terminal.

It was raining so hard, with the wind whipping even harder, that she didn’t even attempt to take a look at her surroundings. Not that she could have seen much anyway, but she’d been looking forward to seeing the Rocky Mountains. All she could do, however, was focus on the wide rivers of water cascading across the paved tarmac as she skipped and hopped her way to the double set of glass doors.

Just as she went to reach for them they swung open for her, and a large male hand snaked out and gripped her elbow. The action startled her into loosening her grip on the umbrella, which was immediately snatched away by the wind and went flying back over her head toward the tarmac. She turned instinctively to see where it went only to get hit with a full swath of rain, which immediately plastered her hair to her head and her clothes to her body, along with fogging up her glasses. She was, for all intents and purposes, blind. She’d never considered herself much of a screamer or a squealer, but she might have done a little of both.

The man holding her elbow tugged her in out of the rain.

“Thank you,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry—my umbrella—”

“Marco picked it up,” came a very deep voice with a bit of a rough edge to it, like maybe he’d just woken up.

She was still blinking water out of her eyes and he still had a hold on her elbow. Her other hand was clutching her purse and laptop bag to her side in a death grip. Everything was just a blur. “Marco?”

“Ground crew. Here, let me take those.”

Her elbow was abruptly released, which sent her a bit off balance, then her bags were suddenly lifted from her shoulder and slipped out of her death grip as if her hands were made from putty, sending her staggering a step in the other direction. Both her feet slipped a little as the smooth soles of her shoes were not made for…well, any of this. And then his hands were on her again, both elbows this time, and, and…well, the entire last sixty seconds had been so discombobulating, for a person who was never discombobulated, that she didn’t know quite what to do. She blinked at him through wet ropes of hair and fogged glasses, arms still akimbo as he wrestled her to a balanced position.

“Bad day?”

It was the dry amusement lacing his tone that gave her the focus she so mercifully needed. She tugged her elbows from his grip, as if all this was suddenly very much his fault, but instead of being the liberating, independence-returning move she was so desperately seeking, the action only served to send her wheeling backward. Which resulted in being caught, once again, even more humiliatingly than before, by his very big, very strong, and very steadying hands.

“Thank you,” she managed through gritted teeth. She carefully removed one elbow from his grip, not chancing leaving his steadying powers all at once, and scraped her hair from her forehead and removed her fogged glasses from her face. Finally able to see, she looked up…only to be thrown completely off balance all over again. But, this time, her feet were totally flat and stable, on hard, steady ground. “You can let me go now,” she managed in a choked whisper.

He was just above average height, probably not even six feet, but given she topped the height chart at five-foot-six, and that was in three-inch heels, he was very tall to her. But it wasn’t the height part that commanded the attention. Nor was it really the square jaw, the thick neck, broad shoulders, very nicely muscled arms and chest that were obvious even through the old sweatshirt and T-shirt he wore. The thick, sun-bleached brown hair might have been a teensy part of it, but mostly it was the piercing blue eyes—truly, they pierced—staring at her from his weathered, deeply tanned face.

Crinkles fanned from the corners of those eyes, and there were grooves bracketing either side of his mouth, but she didn’t know if that was from squinting into the sun or smiling a lot. He wasn’t smiling now, so it was hard to tell. But he was still holding on to her, and it was that, plus those look-right-through-you eyes, that were keeping her from reclaiming the rest of her much-needed balance.

“I’m—fine. Really. Thank you. Again.”

He held her gaze for another seemingly endless moment, then gently let her go. “No worries.”

“I, uh, need to rent a car.” She was normally calm and cool under fire. It was why Todd had been so impressed and promoted her up the ranks of his campaign staff so quickly. It was also why she’d been one of the first ones the senator had hired to his permanent staff when he’d won his bid for office. If he could see her now, he wouldn’t even recognize her. She didn’t recognize her. Of course, the fact that she probably looked like a drowned cat didn’t help matters. “If you could just point me in the right direction—” I will slink off and pretend we never met.

“You don’t need a car.”

She looked up at him again, and though she’d never particularly thought of herself as vain, she’d have given large sums for the use of a comb, a tissue, and a handheld mirror. Okay, so a full salon makeover probably wouldn’t have hurt at that moment, but her pride wouldn’t have minded at least a brief attempt at restoration. “Where I’m headed is about two and a half hours from here, and though it’s probably not all that farfetched to think they probably rent horses here, I’m thinking the locals, not to mention the horse, will be a lot safer if I get a nice SUV instead.”

His lips quirked a little then, and her pulse actually did this zippy jumpy thing. And it felt kind of good—in a somewhat startling, disconcerting kind of way. However—reality check—she hadn’t forgotten that her appearance was highly unlikely to provoke the same reaction in him. Besides, she was not here on vacation. She was here on a very serious mission that had absolutely nothing to do with having a vacation fling of any kind. Not that she was the fling type. Or that men ever flung themselves at her, vacation or otherwise, for her to know. But, still.

“Given the weather, it would probably be as uncomfortable for the horse, but that’s not why I said you don’t need a ride. You don’t need one, because I’m your ride.”

God help her, she looked him up and down before she could stop herself. He was her ride? If only. She jerked her gaze back to his, thankful to find it just as unreadable as before. “I—I don’t know what you mean. Who would send—” She broke off abruptly. Her mother, that’s who. Her mother, who, as of six months ago, had turned into a complete and total stranger, running off with a man she’d barely met, moving her entire life across country to the middle of absolute nowhere, all because of some supposed fairy-tale romance Lauren suspected was anything but.

The mother she’d had six months ago would have never dreamed of interfering in her daughter’s personal life. Talk about it? Yes. Encourage her to get out and date more? Or at all? All the time. But actually fix her up? No. But her mother today? Lauren had no idea what she might do. Or what her motives might be. Whatever the case, Lauren wasn’t having any part of it. “Please tell my mother that I appreciate her concern, but that I’d be more comfortable with my own transportation. I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time, truly, I am. And if it’s a matter of getting paid, I’ll take care of the tab. But, your services won’t be needed.” More’s the pity. She tried really hard not to look him over. One last time.

His lips quirked again, as if they shared a private joke. And her pulse did that dippy, slow-down-speed-up thing. Which made no sense since she was pretty sure the joke was her.

“There’s no tab. I’m here as a favor.”

“Oh. Well…I really am sorry you went out of your way. Let me at least pay for your gas.”

His smile quirked again. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay, then. If you’re sure. Thank you again for your trouble.” She picked up her bags from the short row of airport chairs he’d dropped them into and slung them again over her arm. He was still standing there, staring. “Did you…need anything else?”

“Well, to be honest, I’d appreciate a ride back to Cedar Springs.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll even drive, if you’d like to get some rest.”

She was confused. “I thought you were supposed to drive me back. Why do you need a lift in my car?”

“I flew.”

“You…” She turned and looked back out through the doors to the small, single runway, then back to him. “You’re a pilot?”

He nodded.

She thought about his quirky smile…and her offer to pay for his gas. Good thing he hadn’t taken her up on that!

“But unless we want to wait out this storm, which isn’t supposed to move out until sometime tomorrow, then the best alternative is to drive.” His eyes danced a little, crinkling the skin at the corners. “I seem to have left my horse at home.” Then he did smile. “He hates to fly.”

She laughed before catching herself. “After today, I have to admit, I’m not much of a fan, either.”

“You don’t like flying?”

“Oh, flying is fine. But being tossed around like your plane is being used as the central piece in a cosmic game of foosball? That I’m not so fond of.”

“Ah.” He shifted his weight and the penetrating stare was back. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what, exactly, is foosball?”

“You’ve never played—seriously?”

“Seriously.” And he said it so…seriously, it made her laugh again.

“You know, I’m not sure I could explain it. You’ll have to look it up sometime.”

“I’ll do that.”

And she suddenly felt foolish again. “Right. So…which way to the rental counter?”

He nodded his head toward the one and only counter in the small building. “It’s pretty much one-stop shopping here.”

“Right.” Was she ever going to look less than a complete idiot around this man? And now she was stuck with him, in the close confines of a car for at least a couple of hours, maybe longer given the weather. But what could she do? He’d come all this way as a favor, presumably to her mother or the mayor, and had his offer to escort her rejected—despite the fact that he, apparently, couldn’t have escorted her anyway given the raging storm. Still, she could hardly say no to this, too. “How were you planning on getting me to Cedar Springs?”

“My plan was to fly you, but the storm came in faster than predicted. I thought we’d be back before it blew in.”

“So…we were going to wait it out?”

“I thought it best to let you know I was here, then we’d figure it out from there.”

She’d been on the outs with her mother for months now, which was both painful and frustrating as hell, given how close they’d been B.A.—Before Arlen. And if she was being stubborn there, she felt it was well earned. But that was no excuse to take it out on her chauffeur here. He was being a Good Samaritan, doing a favor. Even if, from what she’d determined about their mayor was true, she could have told him he was likely just being used.

“So, we’re renting a car anyway. Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because we’re not. Wait here,” he said.

“I’m perfectly capable of—”

But he’d already taken off. However, instead of going to the counter, he’d headed toward the doors leading back to the tarmac. “Don’t rent anything,” he called back, then he disappeared through the doors, and though her shortsightedness kept her from seeing clearly, she could make out him ducking down and running over to the big dome-shaped airplane hangar.

She looked at the row of seats and thought about collapsing into one of them—how nice it would be to sit in something that remained steady—but opted for a trip to the bathroom instead. Vanity might not be a driving force in her life, but she was human enough, woman enough, to at least feel the need to assess the severity of the damage and mitigate it as best as possible. After all, it was precisely because she was good at doing exactly those things that she got paid a rather handsome salary. Or had. Surely, if she could avert media probes and spin-doctor live interview slip-ups for her boss, she could do basic repair to her appearance.

One step into the small bathroom and a peek into the mirror after sliding her carefully wiped glasses back on proved that even she might not be up to this particular task. “Wow.” Up until three days ago, she had been slated to appear at a charity fund-raiser in October on Halloween. And to think she’d been worried about what she’d wear as a costume. “Zombie, risen from the dead. And—bonus!—you don’t even need a rental costume.” It was almost a shame she wouldn’t be going now.

She turned on the water out of habit, but really, it would take a team of Georgetown’s finest hairdressers-to-the-Hill to even make a dent in the mess. She ran a paper towel under the stream anyway and did her best to remove the raccoon-eye mascara streaks. There was nothing she could do about the freckle exposure because her foundation was completely gone. She’d been covering them for years. Once she learned that it was hard enough to be taken seriously as a woman, harder still as a very short woman—especially when she was actually built like one—she’d quickly figured out that looking like the “all American girl next door” only further undermined whatever advantages she might have had left. Katie Couric might be able to pull it off, but not so much with Lauren Matthews as it turned out.

Using a comb from her purse, she managed to make her hair go from drowned cat to merely wet and stringy. “Why am I bothering?” After all, given that neither her mother nor her mother’s spouse could be bothered to come to the airport to pick her up, who she was trying to impress, she had no idea.

A vision of the sun-streaked, blue-eyed Marlboro man waiting for her in the airport lobby swam through her mind. Except, he’d already seen her at her Halloween worst, so no point in even going there.

Sighing, she packed up her comb, straightened her damp jacket and slacks as best she could, and marched out of the bathroom, shoulders squared, chin high. Just because she looked like Rocky Mountain roadkill was no reason to act embarrassed.

“Feel better?”

She about half jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to find Rugged Outdoorsman Guy leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door.

She smiled ruefully, and just owned her fate. “As I’m sure you can see, nothing short of a guest appearance on Extreme Makeover is going to improve things much. I’ll feel better when I get to Cedar Springs and check into the first room that has a nice, hot shower.”

She could have sworn the pupils in his eyes flared a little bit, and her pulse fluttered accordingly. It was probably a trick of the light.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said. He swept his hand toward the doors on the opposite side of the terminal from where she’d entered.

All she saw was an aging pickup truck sporting more rust than paint. She craned her neck a little, but…that was it. “The…truck? You rented that?” She knew she was in the middle of nowhere, but she’d traveled a lot, and even in third world countries, she’d scored better conveyances than that. And it wasn’t like she needed anything fancy. But something that wasn’t held together with carbon particles a breath away from disintegrating to soot would be a start. She turned back to him with what she hoped was an optimistic smile on her face. “Why don’t you let me talk to the rental agent, see what I can do?”

“It’s not a rental. Loaner.” When she looked confused, he added, “Friend of mine. Works on planes out here.”

“Ah.” She glanced at it once again. “What about your plane? Won’t you be stuck having to drive that all the way back here?” At the risk of insulting him further, she pasted the smile on her face again as she looked back at him. “I hate to put your friend out. I really don’t mind paying for a rental.” Her gaze went back to the truck, which she feared might not survive the assault of the rain pounding down on it, much less any actual driving. “Besides, I’ll need a car once I’m in town.”

“I’ll be out here again in a few days anyway, so there’s no problem. And I’m sure Charlene won’t mind you borrowing her car when you need it while you’re in town.”

Her expression smoothed. “You’re a good friend of my mother’s?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s a small town. We know each other. She seems like a nice woman. I like her.” He held up his hand to stall her. “I don’t want to get in the middle of any family stuff. I’m just here—”

“—doing a favor, I know. And I do appreciate it, I do,” she said quite sincerely. “I had already been informed they wouldn’t be able to pick me up.” She’d gotten an e-mail from Arlen’s secretary, in fact, with news of the luncheon and keynote speech. Of course, regrets had been expressed. Via the secretary. Delivered from his office-of-the-mayor e-mail address. Any contact she’d had was always so…official, where Arlen was concerned.

Okay, so the description she’d used at the time was pompous and self-important, but she was trying to be open minded here. Really she was. Maybe she’d spent too much time around blowhard politicians. Just because in all the research she’d done on him he always came across like the kind of man who smiled, kissed babies, and made promises to anyone and everyone, without a sincere bone in his body, the kind of guy who was just looking at every angle to see what was best for himself, not his constituency, didn’t mean he was a self-absorbed ass. She could be totally wrong. “But I didn’t know they’d sent someone else. I really—I didn’t want to put anyone out.”

“I’m here, you’re here,” he said, matter-of-factly, which made her wonder why exactly he was here.

Despite his claims, he really didn’t seem any more thrilled than she did. If he wasn’t a good friend, then why had he put himself out? It was a five-hour round trip. No small favor. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t have been if they’d flown as planned. Maybe it really was just an easy errand that had turned into something more complicated and time consuming because of the storm. She’d wondered if Arlen had pressured him, or called in a favor of some kind, but the man standing in front of her didn’t look easily pushed around. And it probably wasn’t that big a deal after all. Still…she couldn’t help but be curious about how they all connected.

“We should get on the road,” he said. “It’s not going to get any better when the sun goes down.”

“No, I’m sure you’re right. Sorry, I was just—you know, I’m really not normally this hard to get along with. In fact, back home, at work—which, trust me, is filled with the jaded and cynical—I’m known for my relentless, upbeat optimism.” She smiled. “It’s a large part of my charm.”

His lips quirked, but he politely said nothing. Which made her feel even worse for not being more gracious in accepting his help.

“It’s just—” Where to begin, really? How was she to explain to this complete stranger why she’d come here? What her suspicions were? How things had so badly deteriorated between her and her mom that she was sincerely concerned that something else was going on? Had to be going on. What did she tell a man who, for all she knew, understood more about the situation than she did. Who was she kidding? In such a small town, everyone probably knew more than she did.

But she also knew small towns were a close-knit society, and close-knit societies might gossip to each other about each other, but they held on to their secrets where outsiders were concerned. And despite her connection to the mayor’s wife, given their estrangement, she harbored no illusions as to which category she’d fit into. Which was going to make poking around in local affairs that much more challenging.

At least Rugged Outdoors Guy was being hospitable. It was a start. One she should be more grateful for. Not to mention possibly use to her advantage. She wished she knew more about the local politics and where he fit into the hierarchy of it all. But, at the moment, he was the only opening she had, and she should be using it. The rocky plane ride had really thrown her off her game. She needed to get her head in gear right now, not three hours from now after a hot shower and a good meal. Campaigns were lost with that kind of strategy. And she was kidding herself if she didn’t think what she was about to mount was exactly that.

A campaign. A campaign designed to free her surprisingly deluded mother by exposing the real Arlen Thompson. And if the rest of the town learned something new about their community leader, well, she had no problem with that, either.

So she went with honesty. Which she still believed was the best policy, even if that concept was oftentimes a foreign one in her day-to-day world. Her former day-to-day world. “Not to get personal, and I’m not dragging you into it, I swear, but this is kind of a tough trip for me. I’ve put it off too long and that has only made things worse. But now I’m here, and…” She glanced out at the pounding rain, then down at her sodden self, then back at him, and smiled, this time quite naturally. “So far, nothing is really going as I thought it would.”

His smile threatened to surface again, and she found herself wishing it would. For the campaign, of course. The better connection you made with the locals, the better your chances were when it came time for them to decide who to put their faith in. And the incumbents almost always had the edge.

“Colorado is a pretty optimistic place,” he said. “It’s hard to be jaded or cynical when you look out at a view like the one we have here. Even with the rain, it’s awe inspiring.”

Why his comment surprised her, she couldn’t have said. Most people lived where they did for a reason. But she hadn’t pegged him as the philosophic type. “How long have you lived here?”

“Every day of my life.”

“Impressive,” she said. “That you don’t take it for granted, I mean.”

“You can’t live here, and look at that, and not be aware of how insignificant your place is in the big picture of things. It keeps the little things in perspective. And yet, at the same time, you can’t live here and not know, with absolute certainty, that if such majestic things as those mountains can exist, surely anything a mere human wants to accomplish can be done with a little grit and perseverance.”

He pushed away from the wall and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, which she hadn’t noticed he’d retrieved for her. In fact, at the moment, all she was noticing was him.

His lips curved more fully under her continued regard, deepening the grooves on either side of his mouth, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You don’t strike me as someone who gives up all that easily.”

“No,” she said, a little too taken with his easy charm and surprising depth. “No, I don’t.”

“Why don’t we get on the road, so you can tackle what comes next?”

“Yes,” she murmured, falling into step beside him, feeling, suddenly, like she might have to scramble to catch up, in more ways than one. “Why don’t we.”